Occupational Hazard
by Julia451
Summary: What happened when Janine was taken hostage in "Ghost Busted"? What was the experience like for her?


"5 armored car heists, 4 bank robberies, 3 kidnappings, 2 jewelry store robberies... and 1 pickpocket in Times Square. Hah – eat your heart out, Superman!"

Janine was beaming with pride as she closed out the reports on this week's crime busts – not only had her boys already eradicated more crime in their hometown than Ray's favorite superheroes ever had, but they could do it without demolishing the place! The barrage of phone calls she used to field every day from bill collectors, lawyers, and appreciative construction firms had been replaced by a stream of thanks from grateful citizens, commendations from the mayor, and pleas for interviews from the press. Her workload had never been so big, but she'd never been happier with her job; actually, it seemed nobody on the team had. Maybe this had been their true calling all along. All the city officials and newspapers agreed that the Big Apple had never been safer...

Which reminded her, she ought to get caught up on cutting out this week's newspaper clippings for the scrapbook. As soon as she got this filing out of the way first. She picked up today's paper from the top of the pile on her desk and briefly glanced at the latest article to quote "leader Egon Spengler" (she couldn't wait to hear what Venkman had to say about that _this_ time!) before putting it back down and rising from her chair.

She turned to the filing cabinet behind her and opened the drawer slowly, holding her head back to the side to avoid getting a glob of slime spat in her face. Nope – clear. With a faint sigh of relief, she started putting the folders and papers away, hoping the phone didn't ring until she was done. That machine certainly was making up for its weeks of lost time. It may have been fun in a way, but Janine had to wonder what they would do if work kept speeding up like this. Would they hire another Crimebuster, just like they'd hired Winston when the ghostbusting business first picked up? They could certainly afford it. But maybe she could convince them it would be cheaper if they just gave her a raise and a promotion, then she'd get to be out on the streets with them where the action was!

Unlikely they'd let that happen. She'd already had to listen to several lectures from Egon about how worried he was for her safety in their new line of work (apparently, they'd started receiving some kind of threats). Not that any of them would dare suggest she seek safer employment elsewhere – even if the chances of her agreeing had been greater than 0%, they knew they couldn't function without her, and they'd never find someone else as willing to put up with the danger or insanity around here as she was – but they certainly wouldn't be too keen on taking her onto the front lines, either. Too bad, because she couldn't share their concerns. Any girl born and raised in Brooklyn knew how to take care of herself. However, as she had no desire to curtail Egon's displays of anxiety for her safety, she hadn't emphasized this point but had simply promised to be careful and watch her back. She couldn't help but imagine how he _would_ react if anything happened to her. She was indulging in some admittedly juvenile fantasies of being held hostage, Egon rushing in to save her, and the two of them kissing passionately in a wild, desperate declaration of love brought about by the dire perils they'd just survived, when she heard something.

One of the first habits Janine had lost thanks to this job was dismissing sounds in a building that should have been empty as the wind, plumbing, or imagination. She turned sharply around at the faint, unidentifiable noise but saw nothing. "Guys? Back already?" No answer – wasn't them. She put her hands on her hips and raised her eyebrow suspiciously as she scanned the hall. Someone or something had definitely just moved in here, but there were no trails of green goo to show Slimer had been teasing her, no moving shadows, or echoes of growls or laughter, the doors were still closed, and the hall completely empty. So the ghosts had finally decided to return, and this one was hiding far too well for her liking. Maybe she should hurry and get out, but crossing the hall might be dangerous. Besides, they never showed themselves when they knew you were looking. Whatever it was, there was only one way to get it to come out.

"Huh, must've been the wind," Janine announced to the air with a shrug before turning her back on the room and her attention seemingly back to the cabinet, as if she'd dismissed it as nothing, but actually keeping all her senses alert for the slightest hint of trouble.

It didn't take long before she heard something else – the unmistakable sound of creaking wood as a hand steadied itself on her desk, followed by a soft but heavy footstep... and it _definitely_ didn't sound like a ghost. Oh, no! But who... how... why...? She took half of one second to let the picture come together and the other half to take a deep breath. Without turning around, keeping her eyes firmly fixed on the open drawer in front of her, she reached her left arm up for the nearest heavy object within her reach – the small lamp on top of the cabinet. In the same instant her fingers closed around it, she spun around and brought it down as hard as she could on the head of the very solid, very human man behind her.

"Augh!" No time to see how much damage she'd done. The first broken piece hadn't even hit the floor before she was running around the desk he'd no doubt just been hiding behind. Janine now saw that he wasn't alone; two more men jumped up from the same hiding place at the crash. "Gotcha!" One grabbed her left arm as she ran past, but she delivered such a strong right-cross to his eye that he let her go, stumbling backwards into his companion, who yelled at her, "Oh, no, you don't!" She made it a few more feet before he caught her and got kneed hard in the groin for his trouble. She shoved him away from her and ran towards the doors.

"She's gettin' away!"

"Stop her!" As if in response, the doors opened to reveal two men racing towards her. (How had they picked the locks without her hearing them? Definitely professionals.) "Oops, wrong door," she said. She quickly changed course and ran for the stairs.

"Stop right there, missie!" she heard behind her. Her first assailants had recovered enough for two of them to block her way while the third grabbed her, but she twisted her wrist out of his grasp, swung him around, and threw him against the others. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a toolbox by the bottom step and reached for it. The first thing she grabbed was a wrench. The guy she clocked on the head this time went down, but the sound of a gun firing made her jump so quickly she dropped the impromptu weapon. With no time to bend down and get it back, she rammed her shoulder against the next guy who tried to grab her, knocking him and his partner down.

Wishing she hadn't worn such a tight skirt today, she jumped over them and hurried up the stairs, ducking to avoid bullets she now heard whizzing past her head from across the room. "Hey, watch it!" one of the frontrunners bellowed in shock. She only stopped to push one of them back down the steps, taking down the two behind him, as well.

"What are you doing, you morons? Get her!" Where had they come from? What were they doing here? She'd have to worry about those details later. It sounded like they were all following her now. She reached the next floor, grabbed a chair from the table and tossed it down the stairs, then darted across to the spiral staircase, and kept going.

"This does it – tomorrow, I'm demanding a raise in hazard pay!" How was she going to get out of here? She was smaller and faster than them. She knew the place, and they didn't. If she could get them all away from the entrance hall, she could slide down the pole and get out before they caught up with her.

She stopped on the top floor and looked down to where they were just beginning to struggle up the spiral staircase, slowed down by their efforts to shove past each other. She used the brief pause to take a good look at them: one tall, two average, and two short, all muscular, all tanned and weather-beaten but in prime condition, dressed in dark-colored pants and thick jackets, cheap and well-worn but in good condition. Obviously full-time thugs with, it would seem, a lot of experience. She darted aside as more bullets came her way. "Cool it!" one of them screamed. "Remember what the boss said!"

She took off for the bedroom as the first thug reached the top of the staircase. This was as far away from the entrance as she could get them. She sprinted to the pole by Ray's bed and slid down, hitting the ground floor running. Several thuds behind her confirmed her hope that they weren't used to that method of exiting a room, one particularly loud thunk suggesting one of them had fallen right through the hole.

She half expected the newest arrival she encountered, although she hadn't expected him to leap out of Winston's locker. "Not so fast!" he snarled as he grabbed her wrists and twisted them behind her back.

She struggled violently against the hold. "Let! Me! Go!" When she stomped on his foot and rammed her elbows into his chest, he finally did let her go. Her next punch, landing square on his left jaw, sent him hurtling towards the ground. She had just turned to make another break for it when she felt his hand grab her ankle. She barely managed to throw up her hands to prevent herself from hitting the floor face first.

"Swell," she groaned in annoyance but without losing her presence of mind for a nanosecond. She reached into the open locker and snagged the cord of a spare proton pack, pulling the weapon from the holster as she yanked it out towards her. Her attacker grabbed it, as well, and they struggled on the floor, holding it between them, for a few seconds. "What's goin' on here? Who are you?!" she demanded, before she felt other hands take hold of her arms and shoulders.

Unable to reach the trigger of the weapon, she wrenched it vertical and swung it, hitting two of them on the chin and causing the grip on her right wrist to weaken. She quickly pressed the button and could tell by the looks of the rest of the party that they recognized the tell-tale sound of it powering up. Two of them ducked as she fired two quick blasts, not very well-aimed because of her constraint and not doing any damage. She heard an encouraging _zing_ as the next blast grazed a guy's neck, but that was the last chance she got before it was finally wrestled out of her hands.

She had two of them holding her now, one on each side, much too tightly (probably in revenge) for her to get loose, although she kept struggling as they pulled her to her feet. "Man," one of them said, panting for breath. "No way we're gettin' paid enough for this."

"Welcome to my world," Janine couldn't help snapping. "What are you doin' here? What do you want?"

"How 'bout a lot less trouble?"

"Too late for that," she assured them.

While one of them went to retrieve the unconscious member of their pack, another said, "We're never gonna hear the end of it if the rest a' the gang hear it took _all_ of us to bring her down."

"Who are you calling down?" Janine demanded, making a particularly strong attempt at freedom.

One of her captors twisted her arm even further, wrenching her right shoulder back into a painful position. "Yeah, she's a feisty one, all right," he observed.

"I warned ya' about girls from Brooklyn," the tall one said, laughing.

"I'd like to find out for myself..."

The guy who had just walked over clutching the lump on his head leaned down and put his face right in front of hers. "You're gonna pay for that!"

The one nursing his sore jaw gave him a good shove. "Don't forget, I caught her – I call first dibs."

The turn in the conversation made Janine grit her teeth and narrow her eyes in even more fury. The thug holding her left arm, feeling her tense up and no doubt thinking she was preparing for something, squeezed her wrist so hard, she was sure he would break it.

The argument continued: "Caught, nothin'! She would've fried your face if I hadn't..."

"Zip it – you couldn't handle her anyway."

"You forget what..."

"What's it to him? This job definitely qualifies for some extra perks."

As the last speaker looked her very slowly and unsubtly up and down from head to toe and she glared defiantly back at him, a voice whispered in her right ear, "What do you say, sweetheart? Feeling up to a night out with the boys? OUCH!" She kicked him with all her might in the shin. That shut him up, but he also hit her in the face so hard that she saw sparks. At least he hadn't broken her glasses – the world turning blurry was the last thing she needed.

"We're wasting time," someone said impatiently. Reaching into his coat, he walked back across the room to her desk. "Let's get her outta here before you lose her again." She saw him remove what looked like a piece of paper from his pocket and leave it on the blotter.

So they weren't here to steal anything or sabotage the Containment Unit or something; they were here to kidnap her. Still struggling with all her might, she screamed, "You can't do this to me! I'm warning you, you'll be sorry..."

The messenger briefly looked over his shoulder. "Not half as sorry as your bosses if they don't do what we say."

_I'm not gonna let you get that far._ In the split second when his back was to them again and everyone else's gaze had idly traveled in his direction, Janine seized the chance to look up and call towards the second floor, "Hey, guys! Just in time!" Sure enough, for one second, all eyes turned upwards with a bolt of panic, expecting to see the new bane of all criminals in New York about to ambush them, and the iron-clad grips of her handlers slackened. Just as her dad had showed her, she twisted her arms free and spun sideways, about to run again. Unfortunately, she was only free for a fraction of a second before another fist hit the back of her head and she found herself thrust against the lockers with her feet off the floor and a hand around her throat.

"Nice try, babe. Yah!" She raked all five sharp, pointed nails of her left hand across his face while reaching for the locker door on her right with the other, swinging it open and banging it against the side of his head. It didn't do her much more good than a cathartic release, though, as the rest of them were on her almost immediately.

"Let me go! You're gonna regret this!" Janine continued to flail and scratch at anything in reach. It may have been hopeless, but no way was she going to let them take her quietly!

"Enough a' this! Who's got the stuff?"

She wasn't surprised that the next thing she felt was the sharp prick of a needle going into her left arm. "Terrific..." Her last conscious thought was that at least she'd gone down fighting...

She'd lain awake but with her eyes closed for a while before she noticed the strange humming sound and vibration surrounding her. What could that be? She heard the distant sound of a horn honking and realized all of a sudden that she was in a moving car. Some part of her brain found that odd, and it was that question that swiftly brought back the memory of what had just happened, and all her rage and adrenaline along with it.

_You get twenty seconds_ – that was how long she allowed to compose herself. _One, two_... Her eyes still closed, not moving a muscle, she slowly counted in her mind, giving her heart the freedom to race for ten seconds before ordering it to slow down, reining it in with slow, rhythmic breaths. She could get through this if she kept her cool. After all the chaos she'd experienced on the job, running from creatures from another dimension, coming face-to-face with the end of the world two or three times, she wasn't going to let herself crack under something as mundane as getting kidnapped.

When she felt more or less calm, she opened her eyes and quickly closed them again, trying to hold still and keep her breathing steady, feeling it gave her some advantage for them to think she was still out. Her brief glance, however, had given her some picture of her current state. She was in the back passenger seat of a car next to one of her captors from the fire hall. He was holding a gun in his right hand on his lap with his finger on the trigger, no doubt ready to raise it at her first sign of movement. Unfortunately, they were driving into the sun, and the glare had blinded her to seeing anything helpful location-wise.

Still keeping her eyes shut, she let her other senses fill in some of the blanks. Judging by the honking she could hear outside and the cursing inside, and the slower, jerky motion of the vehicle, they were stuck in traffic. One voice got abruptly cut off and replaced by another – the radio; they were trying different stations, but she could hear no music. Must have been the news, but she couldn't tell from anything said on the radio or in the car if their little stunt had made the headlines yet (not that that would have made much difference anyway). The car was full of the stench of cigarette smoke, alcohol, and something sickly sweet that she'd often smelled coming from the apartment down the hall from the laundry room.

They must have finally gotten out of the traffic jam because she felt them make a sharp turn and speed up. It took all her concentration to resist the urge to brace herself as her body swayed with the motion, but she let her head hit the window without flinching or crying out.

_That wasn't so bad_, she told herself. _Any other damage_? Her head was still aching from the earlier blows, her left cheek stung, her right side hurt just below her ribs, but her wrists hurt more than anything – if she lived that long, there'd definitely be bruises there tomorrow. Her wrists were bound behind her back with what felt like rope. As her body hid her hands from view, she tried testing the strength of the knots without moving her arms. Not numbingly tight but tight enough – didn't feel like she had much hope in that area. Her legs were free, and she could feel her shoes still on her feet and what felt like the shirt and skirt she'd put on that morning still in place. They had even left her glasses on. Didn't feel like they'd done anything more to her after they'd knocked her out, but the possibility was too disturbing to dwell on if she wanted to stay calm. Nothing felt broken. She felt okay. If she could get free, she could run – that would do for now.

She listened carefully for anything useful, but all her escorts seemed interested in doing now was complaining about their mission – harder than they were told, taking longer than they expected, price too low, risk too high. It sounded like the one in front of her got smacked in the head for worriedly asking what they were supposed to do if the Crimebusters showed up. "Forget about it – they're never gonna find us." She chose to focus on how at least one of them knew what a big mistake they'd made taking her hostage.

So, her first hostage situation... maybe she was overdue. She honestly didn't think she was too far off in thinking she held the record for days without being taken hostage among lone women on all-male teams these days. She was obviously being used to force the guys' hand somehow. How embarrassing! What greater disgrace could there be for a woman? She hated the thought of causing trouble for them, of putting them in danger for her sake. Then again, how could she ever cause them as much trouble or danger as Venkman or Slimer did several times a week? She shouldn't let this one time bother her. It wasn't like she'd brought it on herself racing recklessly into danger like some obsessive reporter or something. She couldn't think about how she'd gotten into this mess; she had to focus on getting out of it. Or at least not making it worse.

When the car screeched to a halt, Janine decided there was no more point in feigning unconsciousness. She opened her eyes and sat straight up, shaking her disheveled hair out of her eyes. "Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty," her guard said with a smirk as he pointed the gun at her. "Enjoy the trip?"

"Very relaxing," she replied. "But I think I'll take the subway home." She now saw that they had stopped in an alley. She could hear the familiar sounds of the city all around her, but there was no sign, writing, or any distinguishing features on the walls of the two buildings on either side to indicate where they were.

The thug in the front passenger seat got out and opened her door, pulling her roughly out by the arm. "Better be careful – subway can be a dangerous place for a lady alone," he said with a disgusting grin and another gun trained on her.

"You mean like how kidnapping the Ghostbusters' secretary can be dangerous for idiots?"

The guy actually gulped at this boast, but the driver slammed the door as he got out and said, "She's bluffing – they'll never find her here."

"Wanna bet on that?"

They ignored her. The last one got out and added, "Are we gonna wait for them to show up, or are we gonna get outta here?" He gestured to a steel door in the building on their right and aimed his gun back at her with his other hand. Her guard put his gun away so that he could now hold her with both hands. She tried to take comfort from the fact that they were obviously paranoid about her trying to get away again.

The driver stepped towards the door, drawing a big, bulky metal key out of his pocket, as a second car containing the other three thugs pulled up behind them. "All clear?" the first driver asked the second as he got out.

"Yeah – no cops, no one following us, no nothing."

"Then let's get on with this."

She felt the guy holding her grope her breast as he tugged her towards the door; in spite of the gun pointed at her, she rammed her head into his chin and pulled away as far as she could go. His partner thrust the gun-barrel only a few inches away from her face, but everyone stood still. The others shook their heads in disappointment at the offender – looked like they didn't want any more fuss.

"Everyone just stay cool now, okay?" Nobody except the guy with the key moved a muscle until the door was open. "We've had enough problems today."

"I'll call in the report" said the other driver. "Stand by for further instructions, and remember the plan."

"Same goes for you. Try to remember _everyone's_ credit this time..."

Before he got back inside, the lookout car driver grumbled, "Just tell your guys to keep their hands to themselves – no one's gonna bargain for damaged goods."

Her guard mumbled under his breath, "What they don't know won't hurt 'em," and she glared at him with murder in her eye as they marched her through the door.

She couldn't say it wasn't an interesting sight inside. They were at the top of what looked like a spider web made of a flimsy, metal staircase, twisting and winding down into the darkness farther than she could see. She evidently stood on the landing longer than they liked because they ended up poking her in the back with the gun. For now, going along rather than resisting seemed to give her the best chance of staying alive. She walked down the steps. At least she could annoy them by the way her high heels kept getting stuck in the spaces between the metal.

"I've heard of low-rent, but this is ridiculous," she remarked as they went further and further down. Something told her it would be wiser to keep quiet in this situation, but talking made her feel bolder.

At a certain point, the change in the sounds above and the style of the walls made her think they must be underground, but they kept going deeper. "Who lives down here, the Phantom of the Opera?" she asked in the same tone of annoyed nonchalance. "To think Doris used to dream about being dragged to this place..."

"Shut up, already."

Taking the gamble they couldn't hurt her, she said, "Whoever he is, I want to speak to the guy in charge. Who's the idiot behind this idiotic operation?"

"I said shut it!"

She didn't – reckless or not, talking gave her some sense of control. She smirked even though they probably couldn't see it in the dim light. "Hey, could you guys do me a favor? When my friends arrive to pick me up, could you give me a seat by the window? I don't want to miss the fireworks show. Too bad I don't have my camera... man, I am just _not_ prepared for this today. Ya' know, you could've given me some notice in advance. I would've had some coffee ready for you, maybe some cookies if you asked nicely, but you were in such a _rush_. You could've at least let me grab my jacket before we left..." Indeed, it was getting chilly down here, and she wished her jacket – slung over the back of her chair shortly before they'd burst in – had come along for the ride. "Gee, such a hurry just to get locked in a trap. I had no idea it was so much fun. Course, that is all the rage these days; every lowlife criminal in New York's doing it – guess you guys wanted to jump on the bandwagon, huh? Personally, I think you'd have been better off taking a trip to the beach, but to each their own. You taking bets on who gets caught first?"

She felt the metal barrel of the gun pressed against her neck. "Don't press your luck, missie. Zip it, or else."

"Or else what?" she asked, laughing brazenly at their dilemma. "Take your best shot. Then what're ya' gonna do? The Ghostbusters only have one secretary, ya' know."

"Not for long!"

There was a quick scuffle behind her. Sounded like the gun changed hands. "Watch it, pal – you blow this, and it'll be all our necks!"

"Your necks are goners anyway," Janine reminded them.

"I like their chances better than yours!"

"Oh, please – I've met marshmallows tougher than you."

"You have no idea who you're dealing with, do you?"

"You obviously don't."

"We own this city!"

"Not anymore – the Ghostbusters are in charge now! Still have time to switch to the winning side if you want."

The one who had driven had seemed the calmest of the lot, but he was starting to lose his temper now. "Your boyfriends picked the wrong team to mess with! They shoulda minded their own business. Now they're gonna be sorry! This is our town, and no upstart geeks in jumpsuits are gonna get in our way!"

"Funny," Janine said in mock confusion. "I thought they already did. Hmm, guess I had it backwards – you only blackmail people who _don't_ pose a threat to you, right?"

Another jab with the gun. "You wanna see a threat?"

_Keep your mouth shut, Janine_. No – she wouldn't give them the satisfaction of scaring her. "Whatever – I ain't afraid a' no crooks."

One of them rammed her back against the metal handrail and gripped her throat. "Wanna rethink that?" She choked out something they couldn't make out, so he loosened his hold. "What was that?"

"I said..." she gasped. "You missed the perfect chance."

"What chance?" he asked in genuine confusion.

"To say, 'I ain't afraid a' no Ghost_busters_' – you won't get another chance now." She shrugged and sighed. "Oh, well, my commendations for being too honest to say it."

Two of them looked bemusedly at each other, but the one with the gun caught her meaning. "Hey, we're not afraid of..."

"Oh, sure, they never caused you any trouble – you just go around kidnapping their friends for fun. Some hobby. You ever consider gardening? It's more expensive, but it's a lot less strenuous..."

"_Please_, just one shot..."

The two unarmed guards jerked her violently forward. "Let's get this over with," the one leading the way groaned. She heard the third guy scoff, "I'll show you afraid," as they moved on.

In reply, she asked, "Oh, no, you've got an ancient Sumerian demon bent on destroying the world locked up down here?" in mock terror.

"You wish."

"Ooh, how original. I'm shaking now."

"Another word outta you, and you'll wish you were with a bunch of ghosts."

_Oh, I'm way past that point_, she thought – that would have been _far_ preferable – but aloud, she said, "And in a few hours, you'll all wish _you_ were ghosts." She would have gone on about what her friends would do with them when they found them, but they had reached the bottom, and observing her new surroundings for opportunities and weaknesses became the priority.

The area seemed to be full of large shapes, some thick and tall, some thick and long, but in the near darkness, it was impossible to identify what they were or what they were made of. It felt like she was walking on earth, maybe gravel, and twice her foot bumped into something metal but didn't dislodge it. She soon heard what sounded strangely like wood creaking on the ground. By looking down and focusing her eyes, she realized they were walking amongst train tracks, one of the thugs next to her walking directly on the wooden ties. The faint light up ahead now gleamed ever so lightly on the metal rails. It also gradually revealed the shapes filling the cavern as stone pillars and metal subway cars.

So they were near the subway? Or had they hijacked a bunch of train cars and brought them here to use as trailers? Either way, she couldn't see any easy way out. Reaching their destination seemed to send a fresh spasm of fear through her. She'd definitely never been in a more precarious situation before; she'd never felt more helpless. It now hit her how completely this bunch of psychos had her at their mercy.

_Don't think about that. Keep it together, Janine, you can get through this_. She just had to stay calm. She had to be patient. She had to be brave. After all, she was practically a Ghostbuster, and if they didn't let armies of creepy, otherworldly ghouls, goblins, and demons scare them, she couldn't let a couple of stupid human losers scare her; if she couldn't handle this, she had no right to be part of their team. This was her chance to prove how much she could take, to prove she could stay cool under pressure, too... just like how Egon could stay calm enough in the middle of a massive firefight to completely redesign high-tech weaponry and jury-rig complicated gadgets as effortlessly as if he was safe in his lab. She marched along determined to prove she could be as coolheaded as Egon, no matter what the circumstances.

First step – stay focused. Although some of the cars were sitting dark, empty, and for all appearances abandoned – some even lying on their sides – others were well-lit, with the silhouettes of people visible in the windows. They led her to one of these lit cars, the farthest away from the entrance, up against the far wall of the cavern. After a series of knocks signaling friends and not cops had arrived, a countersign knocked from inside assuring the latest arrival all was safe within, and one more signal knocked outside, the doors slid open.

"About time," the doorman, complained. "You get her?"

"No – I'm the newest member of your club here for my first meeting," Janine said in her favorite tone of bored sarcasm.

The doorman wolf-whistled as he caught sight of her. "I wish..." She didn't react. _Don't let it get to you_.

From outside the doorway, she could see four more guys inside, all armed. Two of them were leering at her, but one of them (who looked the youngest) was pacing back and forth, and another, all business, poked his head out and looked back down the tunnel. "You sure they didn't follow you?"

"Weren't even around. What do you think we are, stupid?" … _Too easy._

One of the thugs inside sat up and strolled to the door, his grin and air of authority making her think he must be the one in charge of this unit. "You search her?"

Janine suppressed the impulse to shiver at the thought and promised to get them for that if the guys didn't first. "Yeah, she's clean – no wires, no microphone, no tracker."

"They get the message yet?" His accent was even thicker than hers.

"No idea. Doesn't matter – whenever they find out, they'll have no choice but to roll over."

The three delivery men all glared at Janine as she burst out laughing. "Good one!"

"What's so funny, honey?" the leader asked her.

"You thinking you're gonna get away with this," she answered, smiling boldly.

He closed his eyes, shook his head, and grinned at this. "Denial... sad thing to watch. Oh, well, everyone gets over it in their own time."

"Not before the Ghostbusters show up and this whole thing blows up in your faces."

He held up his pistol and cocked it. "Maybe you're right. Hey, when they show up, would you rather watch us take 'em down one by one or all at once?" Janine held his gaze but said nothing as the image he'd conjured in her mind set her heart racing again. She suddenly wondered how many more of them were stationed in the other cars, how outnumbered the guys would be...

The leader finally gestured behind him with his head and said, "Get her inside." She wished that wasn't necessary – the smaller space made her feel more trapped. Silly, since she couldn't possibly _be_ any more trapped than she was anyway, but there you are.

She expected to be tied to a chair, but except for the seats lining the walls, the room was completely empty – no furniture, no food, no crates, no cigarette butts, nothing that wasn't nailed down. Looked like they or at least their boss didn't want to take a chance that some captive might get their hands on something they could use to fight or escape. They forced her to sit on one of the seats against the back wall; she wondered how many other prisoners had passed through here... and what had happened to them. One of them redid the rope binding her hands so that it wrapped around her waist as well, restraining her arms even more, while another slid a coil of rope off his shoulder and tied her ankles together, too. She jerked her legs aside when she felt his fingers begin to rove up her calf, the sudden motion earning her two more guns thrust in her face.

"Good riddance, sweetheart. She's your problem now. If she gets away, it's on you." Two of her escorts turned to leave, their job obviously done (the one who'd sat next to her in the car remained behind). "Keep your eyes on her – she's a wild one."

"With pleasure." The doorman closed the doors behind them just as one of her new acquaintances grabbed her chin; she shook him off, but he just cupped it again and tilted her face up towards him, his eyes plainly advertising what he was imagining. She _definitely_ wished she had her jacket on _now_.

"Geez, you really need to make room in your budget for breath mints," she said right before she spat in his face.

She braced herself as he raised his arm, but the business-like one grabbed his wrist. "Save it, man, we got a job to do."

"This type a' job used to be more fun," he whined, wiping his face. The leader walked over, and he moved on.

The leader shot her a look that resembled disappointment. "You're lucky – you're worth a lot to those Crimebusters, so you get the rock star treatment."

"Meaning?" Janine asked.

"Do what you're told, and you won't get hurt."

"How reassuring... you gentlemen seem _so_ trustworthy."

Her jailer grinned at this. "No guarantees. If anything happens when I'm not looking, don't blame me."

"If anybody loses an eye or a limb, don't blame me."

"Hey, don't be mad at us. It's your boyfriends' fault – you mess with Crimelord, you pay the price."

"Crimelord?" she couldn't help gasping. It was one name no New Yorker could hear without cringing. The king of New York organized crime! The guys had never even entertained the thought of bringing him down; they must have caused him more trouble than they realized. "Wow, how flattering – the guys must be doing a really a great job to make _him_ this mad."

Her escort from earlier stepped up and crossed his arms as he looked down at her. "Not a great sign for you, is it?"

She couldn't deny it – being Crimelord's prisoner was nothing to celebrate, but this wasn't the time to dwell on that fact. "I gotta admit, I never woulda guessed. I'd 've thought the top kingpin in New York could afford much better help."

"Ooh, good one," said the leader. "Never heard that one before."

Another member of the crew passed by, taking a swig from small, square flask. He drained the last of its contents and tossed the empty bottle aside, pulling another one from his pocket. He stopped and held it out to Janine. "Thirsty?"

"I'll pass."

"Come on, there must be something we can do to make our guest comfortable," he said next, trailing his hand roughly down the right side of her face.

Refusing to let him ruffle her, she said, "Too long a list. Weird – you'd think Crimelord could afford better digs for his cronies. What'd you guys do to get stuck with this dump? I thought all you high-class crooks got the beachfront condo hideouts with a getaway yacht and helipad. How insulting – of course, I'd get kidnapped by the goon squad. I don't have to stand for that kinda treatment. I'm gonna file a complaint first thing in the morning."

"If you live that long," her traveling companion laughed.

"Don't listen to him, he's joking..." The leader took a step closer to her. "... I think. I could make sure, if you ask nicely..."

She leaned forward and stuck her neck out as far as she could without rising from her assigned seat. "I don't do nice."

"I can see that." His eyes began traveling downward, and she turned aside with a disgusted "Hmph." He went on: "Too bad you didn't get into our line of work – we all coulda' been best friends."

"I'm perfectly satisfied with my current job, but thanks for the offer."

"Well, then, let's hope your bosses want you to get back to it."

Janine narrowed her eyes. "What if they do?" What did they want from them exactly? Someone released? For them to stay out of a big heist or some other type of job coming up?

"Then they better stick to their old line a' work. They back off, we get to go back to business as usual, you get to go home, and everyone's happy."

"_R-i-i-i-i-ght_," Janine said with a tone and an eye roll that showed just how much she believed _that_. She knew as well as they did that there was no way they could let her walk out of here alive – she'd seen too much, she knew too much. They'd keep her alive as long as they needed to maintain the ruse, but not a second longer. Whether the guys gave into that ridiculous demand or not, she was doomed. Unlike the bonehead who'd devised this plan, however, she knew that wasn't their style. They didn't give in; they fought. They wouldn't give up until they found and rescued her – she knew this as surely as she knew that 2+2 equals 4. They'd come for her...

The question was, could she stay in one piece until then? They were good at what they did, but they'd never dealt with something like this before. How long would it take them to find her?

"You could make this a lot easier on yourself, ya' know," the thug from the car informed her. "After a few days, we might even let ya' out now and then... for the right price."

"Not interested," Janine assured him, turning her head aside again. She just had to last 'til they found her... whenever that would be.

The business-like one turned away from the window he'd been watching. "Thanks for being so quiet, guys – we might be able to hear Godzilla if he came down the tunnel."

"Relax," the leader told him. "Nobody's ever found this place, and nobody ever will." He then turned back to Janine. "So you might wanna make friends with your new family – this is gonna be your home for a while."

"I can wait." After all, every day, she waited for hours at her desk for the guys to get home from a call, never knowing whether or not they'd all come back, always bracing herself as soon as she heard the car pull in to hear who had been put under a spell or possessed or had his molecules destabilized this time. She actually grinned as it struck her how the tables had been turned – it was _their_ turn to be worried about her for a change. For the first time, they were getting a taste of the suspense she lived in. Now they'd know what she went through every day...

But it was unfair to think that. Yes, some part of her always worried about them (some more than others...), but she also never saw them leave for a fight that she didn't expect them to win. Seeing them succeed over and over again was a major part of what made their job seem so exciting to her. Whatever the danger, deep down, she knew they could handle it. She hoped they had the same faith in her. She couldn't let them down. She had to get through this. She had to wait as long as it took without going crazy.

"That's what they all say. Wanna know what happened to our last guest?"

Not in the least. "I think I can figure it out for myself."

"Smart – I like that," her kidnapper said.

A guy who'd been sitting near them tossing a switchblade up and down in his hand now stopped. "Let's hope her buddies are smart enough to back off." He walked over and pointed the knife at her right ear. "If not, we'll hafta send 'em an ear..." Janine flinched as he traced the back of her ear with the tip of the blade, continuing around her neck. "Then a finger, then another, 'til they get the message."

Janine forced herself to keep her eyes open. _You're not here, you're not here, you're not here..._

"I hope not," someone else said. "That gets so messy."

"Why bother?" asked another. "It's not gonna work. I mean, you have any idea how much money they're makin' these days? They're not gonna give that up."

Janine couldn't feel the knife anymore, but she still felt frozen. "If they do, good help must be _really_ hard to find these days," she heard.

"Depends on the type a' _help_." Several of them snickered at that.

The knife nut knelt down so that his face was next to hers. "Ya' know, there's somethin' we been dyin' to know – which one's your favorite?"

The implication of the question was still sinking in when someone laughed, "Shhh... don't let 'em hear ya'!", jabbing his neighbor in the ribs with his elbow.

"Ah, they won't care – share and share alike, n'all."

"If that were mine, you couldn't pay me to share that."

"Chicks – they can't help it."

"What do you do every night, flip a coin or roll dice?"

Now they wanted her to talk. She wasn't going to play along. Not with this. About to explode with rage, Janine turned her death glare on the last speaker for a second before she turned her gaze straight ahead and leaned back. More comments and speculation in the same vein continued around her, but she tried to tune it out, even when they got right in her face.

They seemed to expect this reaction and, as she'd hoped, got bored with it. Gradually, they broke up into pairs and groups and began talking amongst themselves, cleaning and sharpening weapons, smoking, playing cards, and why shouldn't they? This was just another day, another job to them – nothing special in it. Janine was left to sit, watch, listen, and ignore the looks thrown her way every five seconds. _Just breathe_. It would all be over eventually.

There was no clock, no way to tell the passage of time unless she asked someone, which was out of the question. It felt like hours passed, but time always slowed down in, well, situations like this, so she had no way of knowing how long she'd been there, whether or not the guys would have gotten home yet and found their note, whether it was too early or not to picture them looking for her. At various periods, she started keeping time in her head, counting each second, only to give up after a few minutes. All she could do was wait. Wait and hope. Wait and hope and breathe, keeping her heart at a slow, steady, even rhythm – she refused to let them see anything else.

One by one, her guards' shifts ended, and replacements (never any women) showed up to relieve them of their posts. More than once, they offered her food and drink, but she always shook her head – how stupid did they think _she_ was? She couldn't stop them from talking to her or making the same jokes, but she didn't speak to any of them anymore. She wanted to forget they were there.

Over and over again, she toyed with possible plans for escape. There was simply no way – tied up, surrounded, dropped in a maze of tunnels like a lab rat – that she could get out of here on her own, but maybe she could move someone to compassion for her, shed a few tears, play the terrified, helpless victim, get them to want to help her... She'd rather let them shoot her. Maybe she could flirt her way out of this... Just make things worse – the very thought almost made her puke. Maybe she could goad someone into turning on the rest, stir up some discontent... Yeah, goading psychos with loaded guns into fighting in a closed space sounded _really_ smart. Maybe she could just promise her bosses would pay more than theirs if they let her go... because four glorified policemen obviously made so much more than the top of the Criminal Underworld 500. Each idea that came to her seemed more hopeless than the last. In the end, she would always sigh in defeat and keep on waiting.

The hours ticked by. Her ankles and wrists itched horribly from the ropes, her throat was dry, and her back hurt from sitting in this position all day. Her guards, now reduced from six to three, were yawning and slapping their nodding comrades awake now, and Janine was feeling tired herself. It must be late at night by now. Good thing she was way too tense to be in any danger of falling asleep. The thought of spending the night down here with these thugs made her even more anxious than she'd been all day. She cringed every time one of them moved, expecting them to come over to her, but whether because they took the order not to harm her seriously, or they'd had a long day, or nightfall put them on edge, too, they left her alone, keeping their eyes on the windows and grounds outside. Hard to imagine anything could sneak up on them...

The night dragged on peacefully and uneventfully. What was taking the guys so long? They could catch a ghost in less than half this time! But that was the advantage of having all that equipment for detecting and tracking ghosts. Could they modify those gadgets to work on people like they had the traps? Why hadn't they thought of that long ago?!

_Cut 'em some slack, Janine – could _you_ find someone down here?_ No. She had no idea how they'd find this place, unless they tracked down some goon of Crimelord's up above and strong-armed information out of him. They'd better step on it – if they didn't get here before tomorrow, she was handing in her resignation... provided she was alive to do so...

For the first time today, Janine seriously started to consider the possibility that she might never see them again. Any of her friends or family again. This might be it. It was odd, but she thought she'd miss the four of them most of all. Over the past few years, working together every day, fighting to save the world on a weekly basis, they'd become more than friends; they were a family. All her favorite memories of her time with them replayed in her mind: waving good-bye to Winston as Ecto-1 pulled out, laughing at Ray's jokes, fighting with Venkman, catching Egon before he could get away from her outstretched arms...

_Egon..._ Yes, she really was pathetic enough to choke at the thought. _And_ to consider her failure in that area her biggest regret. The one thing she'd wanted more than anything else in her life! If only she'd had more time... Would it have mattered? Would she ever have succeeded? Would anything have ever come of her deepest, fondest, most painful hopes? Would he have ever grown to feel the same way? If she was honest, probably not. The veins of Egon Spengler were full of cold, pure, distilled intellect, untainted by passion, impervious to heat. He let her blow him her kisses and throw her arms around him whenever the urge struck her, but he never experienced the same urge himself. Never, from him, had she felt that yearning for her that she felt for him. Good – no reason to torture herself wondering what could have been. And if she really had no hope left, then how he felt and what he thought of her didn't matter, and she was free to dwell on him to her heart's discontent. _Egon, Egon..._

Janine couldn't say how much time she spent in her memories and impossible fantasies before she noticed that her guards seemed agitated. "What was that?", "You hear something?", "You hear that?" they kept asking. They all held their weapons ready to fight, but she couldn't have been the cause of it – none of them were looking at her. One of them put his hand on the door handle, but the current leader pulled his arm away, asking something about if he wanted to give away their position. They all lined up against the windows as if they were looking for something outside. What was going on?

"We're not takin' any chances." The current leader turned around and pointed at Janine. "Gag her. Keep her covered."

"Get your hands off me!" Unsurprisingly, the thug didn't oblige and tied the handkerchief tightly around her mouth before sitting down with his gun aimed directly at her.

"Get outta sight," was the next order, and they all backed up and ducked away from the windows.

"I'll get the lights."

"No, you idiot! That'll just be a signal to come here."

Signal to who? Okay, obviously something had spooked them, but what? Why, when she'd been perfectly quiet, did they decide they wanted to make sure she couldn't talk...? Or scream. Scream and give away where she was. Could it be...?

The thought was cut off by the most wonderful sound in the world to her at that moment: the unmistakable blast of a particle thrower, followed by the strike of proton stream against metal. About time! Her three companions took one more glance out the window before wrenching open the doors and rushing outside. Janine was left alone as all available hands hurried to join the fight, but there was nothing she could do except hope nobody tried to use her as human shield.

Waiting for the battle to end was a whole new kind of agony for the prisoner. She could see nothing except bright streaks and flashes of light crisscrossed by humanoid shadows and hear nothing but shouts, shots, blasts, and explosions. One second, she was terrified the guys were having their heads blown off; the next, that the thugs would cut their losses, come back in, and kill her. In her current state, she could do nothing to help them or herself – she hated being so powerless! Why didn't those yahoos hurry up and get her out of here?!

Then, out of nowhere, the sounds of the gun blasts completely stopped. "All right, let's get 'em!" Never would have thought she'd ever be so glad to hear that voice! One more proton stream barrage stormed past the window, and then it was over. The battle couldn't have lasted more than a minute, but it had felt like an eternity.

Slimer was the first to reach her, but the first person she saw was Egon, followed closely by Dr. V. She couldn't resist the urge to tell them, "Sure took you long enough," as Egon began untying her. She tried to shake off the tension of the past day so she could let herself enjoy this part. She didn't have much time, as he got the ropes off incredibly fast. Guess he didn't want to prolong physical contact with her for a second longer than necessary.

Peter instantly returned her greeting with, "Nice to see you, too, Janine," but Egon still hadn't said a word. Even when he got her free, he didn't say he was glad they'd found her or apologize for taking so long or ask if she was all right or anything, just stared at her like he didn't believe it was really her. Of course, Janine didn't expect him to violently proclaim how this ordeal had taught him how much she meant to him like in her fantasies, but he could have given her some indication that he'd been worried about her just a little. After all she'd been through today, this was really too much! She was about to tell him she was fine, thanks for asking, when the most shocking thing she'd ever experienced in her life happened: Egon Spengler threw his arms around her.

At first, Janine was too stunned by the action to do more than hold completely still, afraid any sudden movement might cause her to wake up. It was the sight of Venkman turning his head aside, but not before she caught the amused grin on his face, meaning he could see it, too, that convinced her that it must really be happening. When she wrapped her arms around her hero and the man of her dreams, he held her closer, and she could feel in his embrace all the desperate yearning of her own heart. He'd finally reached out for her! She _did_ mean something to him, something special and powerful. There was no way of knowing how long it would last, but it was enough to know he felt it now, even if she never saw any proof of it again for a long time.

Faintly, as if on some distant planet, Janine heard other footsteps approaching, but neither she nor Egon let go. She never wanted this moment to end, and she didn't care what the others saw. She was where she was safe, where she belonged, and, this time, at least, he thought so, too.

The first thing Egon said to her when they pulled apart was, "Are you hurt?" with a smile to match her own.

Still beaming, Janine assured him with completely sincerity, "Oh, I'm fine."

They were interrupted by Ray clearing his throat: "_A-hem_. Looks like the police got our message." They could all see the flashlight beams coming down the tunnel and hear footsteps and new voices approaching.

Janine was relieved that the cops would be too busy with Crimelord's hideout tonight to have time to interview her right away; that ordeal was put off until later. She was able to head back to the firehouse with the guys, where Egon checked her vitals and rubbed some concoction on her chafed wrists and ankles. Once he gave her a clean bill of health, the others brought her a plate full of sandwiches.

"You want to talk about it?" Winston asked as he handed her a cup of tea.

She shook her head. "Not tonight – no way." She needed some time to decide what she felt comfortable telling them and how.

"Anything we can do?" Ray asked next.

She thought about that for a second. "Could I stay here tonight?" It felt a lot safer than the thought of going home to her empty apartment.

Her request was readily granted, as long as she didn't mind being alone for a few hours – they had some business to take care of that couldn't wait. She would have thought this insensitive if she hadn't already figured what they had in mind. "Going after Crimelord?" she guessed.

"You got it," Winston confirmed, punching his fist in his palm.

"Can I come?"

"NO!" they all answered instantly.

"Haven't you had enough for trouble for one day, Lois?" Venkman added.

Janine got to her feet. "Hey, I can ask for anything I want – after all the trouble I went through because of you guys today, you owe me!"

"Exactly," Peter said in a different tone. "After we catch this guy for ya', we'll be even for keeping you waiting all day, and you can get off our case about it."

Janine smiled at the brotherly teasing. "Aw, I knew you guys wouldn't let me down." And because she knew it would make him squirm, she gave Peter a hug and quick peck on the cheek. "Thanks, guys." While he was blushing, she gave one to each of the guys in turn, ending with Egon, whose thank you only differed in that it lasted twice as long.

Janine wasn't sorry to have some time to herself while the four of them were out getting revenge. The whole experience still seemed unreal, and she lay on the couch in the living room with the memories of those hours of fearing for her life and worse stubbornly replaying in her mind. She tried to calm herself by constantly recalling the happy ending. That part was certainly nothing like she'd imagined it. It was a thousand times better.

Over the years, whenever anyone asked Janine about that day, she may have described or focused on different things about it each time, been willing to discuss it on some days more than others, gone into more detail sometimes and less detail other times, but there was one thing she always said about that day every time and that never varied: "It was worth it."


End file.
